


Button House Childcare

by Poompoom



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Other, they can’t stay calm, theyre just dysfunctional screaming kids, think of that gif from community ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-03-31 00:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poompoom/pseuds/Poompoom
Summary: Alison inherited Button House, a fair sized semi-detached place in a quiet cul-de-sac. She’s a childminder. Robin is teething and obsessed with worms. Thomas thinks he should be moved into year five because his poetry is too good for his year four class to appreciate. Julian is an entitled git as usual. Pat tries to keep it all together. Chaos ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this was started on the ghiscord! I expected this to be funnier but a lot of it is just about social class, whoops. the older the ghost in the show is, the younger they are in this AU! enjoy!

“Robin, no, you can’t eat the worms!” 

Pat reached out and grabbed the wriggling creature from the toddler’s grimy paws. He let it writhe freely in his left palm as he took Robin’s arm and led him to a bush at the back of the garden, speaking to him softly as not to intimidate him.

“Worms help our mud and soil get more nutrients. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to grow as much food, so don’t keep picking them up, you cheeky chappy.” 

Pat smiled, revealing blue and yellow bracketed braces on his rather large teeth. He’d been to the orthodontist the day before yesterday and had had them tightened. They blooming hurt. There wasn’t much anyone could do about brace pain; he’d tried Calpol, ibuprofen and paracetamol. They didn’t really do much, and the consistent pain in his teeth would fade. At least he got to choose what colour they were this time round.

He showed Robin how to carefully put the worm back in the mud. His small friend watched, mouth agape, dribbling, then broke into a smile and giggled. Pat felt accomplished. But not for long. 

Robin suddenly darted forwards, yanked the worm out again and shot back into the garden. Pat could see what he was about to do now. Oh, bother. 

Cap didn’t much care for the other children at his childminder’s. Humphrey, Mary, Kitty, Thomas and Fanny all went to the same primary school, so they were all somewhat closer to one another. When he was picked up by Alison, the others were all waiting close by, eyes slightly agape at Beg-Chetwynde Prep’s pretty Victorian building, which was far nicer than the modern dump that West Horsley was. 

Julian also went to Beg’s, but Cap rarely saw the top year boys. The older fellow only came to Alison’s on Thursdays because his Au Pair had her day off, and he was collected late in the evening by one of his parents in their Jaguar. They had to wait by the school gates with each other on these days, and it was difficult to make conversation. Julian was absorbed in his phone, and chuckled to himself at intervals, so Cap would bring out a text book about vehicles and read. 

He wanted to make friends with Julian, he really did, but he didn’t quite know why. He did have a bit of a reputation for being a bully, and the blonde hair he had brushed back exposed a wide face with sly eyes in a haughty expression. Cap would steal glances at him every so often while they were waiting. As a whole, Cap wasn’t quite sure why he kept stealing looks at other boys. 

Julian would always get changed into his own clothes too after home-time, because he hated being seen in his uniform. He had always thrown a t-shirt and hoodie over where his bottle-green blazer, V-necked jumper and tie were during the day. Cap was rather fond of what he had to wear, and even wore his cap home (hence the nickname), although most boys his age despised it. The Beg’s uniform was a far cry from that of the state school - Asda-bought polyester cardigans and crew neck jumpers in a garish shade of blue, with white polo shirts and all manner of skirt and trouser styles. There was an optional button up shirt and tie, which only Thomas wore. Some of the kids even had trainers on their feet. Preposterous. Cap wondered what it would be like to be thrown in with the masses at a primary school, and decided, from interaction with the others, that he probably wouldn’t like it. 

He sat cross legged in the sun-dappled garden alone, blazer flung aside, still engrossed in his book. He would have to start his homework soon; he wanted it done before Mum came and picked him up at half past five. He slowly became aware of some Northern-sounding shouting directed his way. 

“No, Robin! Don’t! Cap! Look out!”

Before he knew it, he felt the back of his jumper being stretched, and something cold and wiggly was dropped inside. Cap shot up, squirming, jumping around and trying to get the creature out. He was almost entirely sure it was a worm. Meanwhile, Patrick was trying to apologise, but he was being drowned out by Robin’s gleeful screeching and his own shrieks.

“Cap, I am so sorry - I tried to make him put it back, but you know he’s only-“

And now he could hear laughing. Julian peered around the patio door, aiming his phone at him, his usually smug face looking even smugger. That rather upset Cap. There should have been some solidarity between the only Beg-Chetwynde boys. 

He wriggled to a halt and tried to be mature. Ostentatiously, he stamped his feet on the ground, removed his jumper and shook it out, capturing the worm, all while looking directly at Julian’s phone. Mary, Katherine and the awfully-named Fanny were behind Julian too, faces barely containing how humorous they found the situation. 

I’ll show them, he thought. 

At this point, Robin was still giggling to himself, scraping his fingers into the ground, dirtying his minute fingernails, which were beginning to resemble claws. 

Julian watched through his screen as Cap dropped the worm down the toddler’s T-shirt, much the dismay of Pat, who was watching the whole scene play out in the background. 

All was quiet. Everyone watched in slow motion as Robin’s lips slowly started trembling. He burst into a wail. Cap’s eyes widened, then looked over at Julian, raising his hand to cover a nervous cough. Julian’s smile grew wider. He was capturing the whole thing on camera. He looked behind him. Kitty had the biggest look of dismay on her face. She dropped her My Little Pony and scurried off at once to the kitchen to find Alison. 

“Oh, Cap,” Julian said, mock-simpering, “Why would you do such a thing to a toddler? He’s three.”

“That be a bit mean.” piped up six-year-old Mary.

The eleven year old was still standing, struggling to find words. 

“But- but - but Robin put it down my back FIRST!” he sputtered. “It was payback.”

Fanny spoke next. 

“He’s three, he doesn’t understand.”

“That is true.” said Pat. 

“That’s not FAIR. Julian, put your silly phone away.” 

Kitty found Alison in the kitchen stirring a pan of baked beans. 

“I can’t play ponies with you at the moment, Kitty, I’m making dinner.” Alison said on autopilot. 

“No, no, Alison! We can later, but you’ve got it all wrong! Robin is throwing a Tantrum!” Kitty beamed up at her, enthusiastically emphasising the final word, the bows adorning her hair catching the yellow light of the lightbulbs. 

The kitchen was a fair size, Alison thought. The house was definitely big enough to accommodate the rowdy children. After all, she’d spent some time in big family gatherings at Button House, which her great aunt had left to her in her will. It was in a quiet cul-de-sac and she was lucky to have it, as her and Mike’s original mortgage prospects were far from as nice as this. Even though her relative had died, every cloud did have a silver lining. 

Button House was also big enough for her not to notice her youngest occupant screaming his head off. 

“Where is he?” 

“In the garden. Cap put a worm down his shirt. Julian is filming it.”

“I can’t leave you lot alone for five minutes, I swear to-“

She caught herself. Looking down at Kitty, she smiled.

“Come on, lead me to the scene.” 

Taking her hand, the enthusiastic eight-year-old pulled her past the living room, where Humphrey was spread eagled on the sofa, snoozing, up to the patio doors, where Julian and the other two girls scattered. 

She headed out onto the grass of the garden, where the summer sun had mostly been blocked by the gnarled old apple tree she had once climbed during her childhood visits. Cap was standing unsurely in front of a snivelling Robin.

Alison had been looking after Robin since the age of one. Every noon, except on most weekends, his spick-and-span parents would drop their contrastingly scruffy boy off, and she’d push him in a pram during the school run. Lots of parents on the playground had even assumed he was her son. He may not have been hers by blood, but he certainly spent half his life at Button House, and he was probably more like her than he was his parents. 

She picked him up, where the crying eventually subsided. She didn’t like to be stern, but if she wasn’t, the kids would walk all over her. Hell, they already did. 

“Cap, would you like to explain what’s happened here?”

Usually a well composed child, who spoke as well as Thomas did, Cap could not have sounded more garbled. 

“It-whasahh-there was- Robin put a wo-worm down my shirtntheniputitdown HIS butermmm Julian- he had hiscamera.. out n he was filming it and it isn’t FAIR!” 

She could see he felt exasperated and humiliated, and it did seem that Robin had started the commotion. She turned to Julian, who was already trying to slink away from his position at the door. 

At only one day a week, Alison saw Julian the least, and from what she could gather, he thought a lot of himself. Even though he was ten months older than the wonderfully behaved Pat, he acted like he was far more mature than him, as well as looking down on the state school kids. Though he could crack a funny joke, she would not hesitate to tell him (if he were a few years older) that he was a bit of a bastard. 

“Julian, phone.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Julian said haughtily.

“Delete that video, or your phone is confiscated until your mum comes to pick you up, and I’ll tell her that you misbehaved.”

Julian snorted. 

“Oh, so you’re not gonna tell Cap’s mum what HE did?” 

“I haven’t got a mum.” Cap said quietly, unheard by anyone but Pat and Kitty, who both shot him a sympathetic look.

“Oh, believe you me, Julian. Cap’s dad will be made aware of what he did, but you don’t go filming stuff out of malice.”

However mature Julian thought himself to be, could never be lived up to after the angry child sound he proceeded to make. With his slightly cracking voice, it was even funnier. Alison held out her free hand and advanced towards the doorway. She noticed that Julian was as tall as she was. 

“Julian, PHONE.” 

“You can tell mum. I don’t care. SHE doesn’t care. I don’t want your shitty dinner, either. Fuck off.”

Ignoring the hissed ‘Language!’ From Fanny, he threw the phone to the floor, smashing it. He then stamped on it to inflict extra damage and quickly stomped upstairs.

The mention of dinner made Alison realise the baked beans were burning. She ran off towards the kitchen, still holding Robin. 

The other children would be lucky if they could have a smart phone at the age of thirteen, let alone a top-of-the-range one. And there was Julian, storming up the stairs after smashing his up over a minor argument. 

It almost made Pat’s blood boil, if he could feel emotions like that. Yet he still felt sympathy for Julian, however strange that was. They were both in year eight, and though their schooling was different, as he attended the local comprehensive, he tried to feel some sort of camaraderie. Dammit, Pat. Why did he always have to be so nice? He wished he were meaner and more uncaring. 

But mum wouldn’t like that. He took after her, the empathetic and optimistic person with a sweet tooth and a love for Scouting. Dad was the mean uncaring one, which was why they’d moved down south in the summer before year seven. Pat had his hunches, but mum didn’t want to talk about why he’d had to switch houses and new schools so quickly and why he wasn’t allowed to see dad, which made him sad, however horrible he was. 

Because Alison had gone, Cap appeared to have shrunk back to the place where he had left his book and continued reading, though this time his posture was far more hunched and unassuming, rather than upright and self-assured. Fanny was on the patio chattering away to Mary, who would listen to anyone who talked. Pat caught a few words:  
“He was so awful, Mary! I told him where I’d hidden my favourite bracelet on the school field because I trusted him, but George went and told all he other boys and now he’s stolen it and I’m really afraid they’ve flushed it down the-“

Pat switched off. Fanny was having ex-boyfriend drama again. His attention turned to Cap once more. If he had managed to stop Robin, maybe none of this kerfuffle would have never happened. He let his conscience beat himself up about it for a few seconds, then decided to remain positive again. 

Strangely, he heard a cough from above him. Pat frowned and looked up to the branches of the tree, which spread widely a few metres from his face. He saw a pair of skinny legs dangling and noticed that Cap was now looking towards the swaying feet too.

“Thomas?” said Pat.

“Oh!” cried Thomas, who had clearly not spotted that he had been, in fact, spotted. Slowly, he leaned back to see Pat beneath him. Pat could now see a pair of big brown eyes staring downwards, but the big brown eyes suddenly swayed backwards and an entire spindly nine-year-old fell from the tree directly onto him. 

Luckily, Thomas probably weighed as much as a large cat, and for the lack of better explanation, Pat was cushiony. At least, that’s what some of the boys whispered to each other in the P.E changing rooms. Pat tried not to acknowledge what they said. Mum just said it was all he love that was stored in him. 

They both sat up on a heap in the floor, largely uninjured, except for Pat’s teeth, which still killed. Cap tried not to laugh and went back to his book. Pat chuckled himself. Thomas stared at Cap, frowning, smiled apologetically to Pat, picked up a notebook and ran into the house. 

Pat dusted off his trousers and decided to head in too. He gave one last cursory glance towards Cap.

“Sorry.”

He then left and tried to find Julian.

 

Alison was putting dinner on plates. Five minutes and all of the squabbling children would be called in to eat around the large dining table. Humphrey would need help with his knife and fork. Thomas would pick and choose. She’d potentially have to face the music with Julian. 

Her dinner wasn’t shitty, was it? Chicken nuggets and oven chips with beans, save for Mary’s vegetarian option. She’d had a terrifying ordeal with a roasted pheasant last year and now refused to touch meat. 

Alison kept grumbling, fighting a war in her head. Julian was a kid; he couldn’t help the rude upbringing he’d had. Yet the same could be said for awful adults. She didn’t know where to stand. God, his parents were even more unbearable. She almost found it a relief when she remembered that Julian was being shipped off to boarding school next year. He’d be carted off to some ancient building with spires and hidden passageways and shaped up into the Elite Man, who would probably end up running the country and doing copious amounts of cocaine at socialite parties. 

The plates were all done. The beans looked burnt, but she hoped the kids wouldn’t mind. She was never much of a chef. Mike was definitely the better of the two, but he always got back after everyone had left. Sometimes, she would abstain from dinner so he could fry up something nice just for the two of them, but childminding was hard work and she needed her calories before half past five. 

“Ahem.” 

Alison knew before she turned around that the little voice belonged to Thomas, the nine-year-old who had a crush on her that was about as subtle as a brick. She found it endearing that the boy seemed to hang off her every word, but she hoped that he’d grow out of it soon or it would begin to get uncomfortable. 

Thomas had just discovered the wonders of poetry. His year four teacher, Miss Wallis, had gone through a PowerPoint demonstrating different sorts and layouts and it excited him terribly. He wanted to learn every word in the English language so he could assemble the bestest ever poem for Alison. He’d delved into the primary school library, but there wasn’t much more to offer than Famous Five, Tom Gates and Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

He wished he could be let loose in the library at Beg-Chetwynde, which he was sure must be full of dusty old tomes full of beautiful poetry. Mummy and Daddy couldn’t afford private school, he knew that, but they’d still placed a great emphasis on education, making sure that he was dressed as smartly as possible at school and that they provided him with lots of trips out at weekends. 

He was so full of jealousy at Cap and Julian for having a better education than West Horsley Primary. He did not dislike his school, but even at nine he knew that he would never have the adventures that his favourite old book characters went on, because they all went to fancy schools and ate tinned sardines and drank lashings and lashings of ginger beer. He wondered if that was what was served at the Beg-Chetwynde canteen, rather than his stodgy pizza slices and soggy roasts. Mummy didn’t have time to make him a packed lunch, so school meals it was. Even though he didn’t eat much at Alison’s house, he always tried to appreciate her cooking. 

Oh, Alison. She was a lady worth writing poetry about. On the first day of her being his childminder, she had held his hand to walk across the road, and his heart had melted for her. She had big blue eyes and lovely soft hair. He’d stroked it once, so he could confirm its softness. 

In his notebook were drafts upon drafts of poems. He liked hiding up in the tree, because he was able to observe all that fuss about worms while going completely unnoticed (except for when he fell out). Most of his poems were rhyming couplets, but others were acrostic, maybe concrete. He’d gone for the first option, however, when writing his final copy, because it would mean that she could appreciate his true skill when he read it aloud. Which was what he was about to do. 

“Alison, I’ve written you a poem!”

In drama, Miss had told him that being confident was the most important thing, and Thomas took that to heart. If he wanted Alison’s affection, there was no point being shy about it. 

Alison turned around. Was that the hint of a smile he saw on her lips? 

Alison, was, in fact, trying to suppress a chuckle, because she didn’t want to hinder Thomas’ creative process, however strange he came about. 

“I can read it to you, if you’d like.”

She’d never met a boy so odd, but at least he was happy to do creative things rather than being indoctrinated by football and video games, like every other boy his age. He’d probably be bullied by it in future years. 

“Yes, go on then, read it out.”

She stood opposite him with her hands on her hips. 

He cleared his throat again. 

“Alison - a poem by Thomas Thorne.

‘Alison is my childminder,  
And there is nobody kinder  
She always makes nice dinners,  
Makes me feel like a winner.

‘She has very shiny eyes,  
Makes her look so very wise,  
The other kids don’t appreciate  
How Alison Cooper is so great.”

He put the notebook down, gave a little smile, and bowed dramatically. 

Alison was really fighting to keep her laughter in. Her voice shook a little when she spoke. 

“Thomas, that’s lovely.”

She had to bite her lips to control herself. She spoke very quickly. Now her eyes were watering with hilarious anticipation. 

“Go and tell the others it’s dinner time, please.”

She patted his mass of brown curls. He smiled at her and strode out of the kitchen. She finally let out a screaming laugh, doubling over. 

 

As Thomas walked off, he became sure that her eyes were watering after he’d finished his masterpiece. It had moved her to tears! And what was that noise now? She was finally crying now, in hysterics. He would surely tell his teacher it was time for him to be moved up a year, because clearly year four english was prohibiting him from his full potential. He was just Too Clever. Thomas approached the living room, which contained the girls and Humphrey, who had woken up from his slumber. 

“Hello all, it’s dinner time now. If you’d like to get to the table, then-“

“Yes, alright, Thomas, we get it. Dinner time.” grumbled Fanny, who got up, tailed by Mary. 

Thomas didn’t bother inviting in Cap, who was still in the garden. He thought it would be funny if he came to the table late. 

Whilst the amateur poetry was being read downstairs, Julian, who could no longer bury himself in his phone as a means of distraction, had been found by Pat at the top of the stairs. Even through his hubris, there was a bit of regret nestled there, and although he would be handed a new phone within a week, Father would still shout at him. For the time being, he allowed himself to relish in his sulk, at how annoying the others were and how he wasn’t trusted to simply take the bus home by himself. For fuck’s sake, he was thirteen, wasn’t he? He was being sent to boarding school next year - there would be no au pair then! He was independent, he was mature, which is why he had thrown a strop, told his guardian to fuck off, and smashed a phone more expensive than anything the other kids could buy. 

He didn’t really want to talk to Pat. He was the kind of boy that would be torn to pieces at Beg’s, particularly by himself. Julian shuffled over and Pat sat next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m having a sulk. Leave me in peace.”

“You can talk to me about it if you want.”

The tubby northerner wasn’t going away. 

“I hate being told what to do.”

“You’re going to have a fun time at Eton next year, then.”

“I’m not going to Eton.”

“Might as well be. It’s all the same to us poor people.” 

Julian wasn’t expecting Pat of all people to be sarcastic. He tutted. 

“You wouldn’t know the school I’m going to. It’s in-“

“Why were you recording the kid?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know. For fun. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. Cap might as well get used to it.”

“Julian, I’ve seen the way Cap looks at you.”

“What, is he a queer?” Julian snorted. What was a thirteen year old boy without a little homophobia? 

“No, no, well - I don’t know - but he wants your support, not your mocking. It sounds a bit silly when I put it like this, but he’s intimidated by the kids from West Horsley, even though he’s the one with the social privilege - but that’s not the issue. You’re the only other boy from his school there so you’re a little more familiar to him. And he was in a humiliating situation, albeit initiated by a toddler, but you made it ten times worse.”

Julian snickered, his wide smile setting back into his face. “Yeah.” 

“No, Julian, that’s not okay. And you upset Alison. She looks after you. She’s actually very nice. The house is a perfect distance away from my school because mum won’t let me walk through my estate alone and she doesn’t finish work until late. So I walk here instead and mum collects me. I know your situation is some fancy au pair thing, but she treats us all equally, whether we’re destined for high society or not.”

“You’re making me feel bad.”

“I’m making you come to your blooming senses, mate. Go down, apologise to Alison, have your chicken nuggets. In that order” Pat was counting his instructions on his fingers. Julian felt a wave of regret. Okay, maybe more of a puddle of regret. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll do that.”

Pat blurted out a quick “Sorry.”

“What was that for?” 

“I was just a bit mean then.”

“Bloody hell, man up. You’re good at telling people what to do. You’re not mean, Pat. I’m mean. That’s who I am. The school bastard.”

“You can change your tune; don’t be the school bastard.”

Thomas appeared at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Dinner time.” 

He smiled curtly and left.

 

Julian approached the dinner table with Pat to his side and it was clear that the look Alison gave him was laced with annoyance. They went to take their seats. Swallowing his pride, Julian apologised. 

“Alison, I’m sorry for earlier. I was immature and silly. Your dinners aren’t shitty.”

“Language!” Fanny hissed once more.

“Cap, I’m sorry for annoying you. The video IS currently on snapchat, but I’ll take it down as soon as I get access to another phone.” 

Alison rolled her eyes. Julian looked around the table. Robin, in his high chair. Humphrey, using his hands for the food because his dyspraxia was severe. Mary stared into space, zoned out, one hand on a Quorn nugget. Kitty was busy dipping her toy horse’s muzzle into the sludgy beans. Thomas was stared creepily at Alison. Fanny glared rudely at anyone daring to not eat properly. Pat dug into his meal with gusto. But where was Cap? 

There was an empty chair and nobody had noticed.

Julian heard a war cry. Cap ran like a small bull into the dining room from the kitchen, crouching low. Before Julian had time to react, the younger kid took hold of his belt and pantsed him in front of the entire table. 

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU SO HARD YOUR GHOST WILL HAVE JOINT PAIN!” Julian roared. 

“Well, I’m going to kill you, and your ghost will be trouserless!” Cried back Cap, scrambling to get away. 

Alison yelled “Both of you, get here NOW!” 

She seriously could not get five minutes of bloody peace.


	2. Chapter 2: Christmas boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang take part in a secret Santa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO what is up lads
> 
> Sorry I didn’t update this like six months ago like when I was supposed to. But it’s actually December now, which is quite fitting. Also the end is total crack; it’s not serious and I couldn’t think of anything better (it had been unfinished for ages)  
> There is NO grammar check on this but assume any little errors are just mistakes and not evidence of my stupidity. 
> 
> Most of the Ghiscord knows entirely what the fuck is up

Thomas hung upside down in the apple tree. He’d read somewhere that sitting strangely could change one’s perspective, and he needed new ideas to write about. He’d sat on the topmost branch, the thick, steady one, and swung backwards, hooking his thin legs into the bark, bobble hat promptly falling off. There he swayed, not knowing whether it was better to let his arms dangle down or to help grip the branch. Either way, the blood rushing to his head was not helping. 

His brain grasped for ideas, or anything he could remember. Hmmmm. Unicorns. Greek mythology from the picture book at school. The comedian on telly with the funny laugh and a face like a puppet. Apples. Apple tree. Button House. _Alison_. 

With that last woozy, blood-brained thought, Thomas fell out of the tree and crashed onto the lawn below, limbs flailing like a ragdoll. 

Nobody else was in the garden at this point in time, primarily because it was a freezing cold midwinter afternoon and secondarily because the others were crowding in the middle of the living room for their Secret Santa handover. 

Over the past two weeks, Alison had organised the activity as a fun way to mark the end of term. Julian had grumbled and called it lame, but the younger kids had enthusiastically begun to decide what they were going to pick for their partner before they’d even picked a name from a hat. 

Alison was practically Robin’s guardian and knew he was too young to go looking for a present for Kitty (who he had picked from the hat). During her last shop, she’d slipped a blue pony from the toy aisle into her trolley, then wrapped it and placed it on the present pile on the table, inscribing her name in comically childish letters with a felt tip. 

At the start, Kitty had enthusiastically announced l that she was going to buy her partner a My Little Pony. Alison advised her to get the something that suited the recipient, not the giver. Kitty had then asked what the word ‘recipient’ meant.   
Her present on the day of the unwrapping was alarmingly horse-shaped. 

As the others crowded round the table, some of them feasting their eyes on their gifts, trying to pick out their names left on anonymous labels, Alison came to realise a child was missing. When one is a carer of children, noticing that one was misplaced was immediately alarming. There’s always the initial pang of ‘where have they GONE?’, and the fear of the worst happening. Imaginary lawsuits filled her head. She’d lose the job, and the house, and-

It was Thomas. He was in the garden. She could see him lying on the ground. The fear bubbled again. Why was the door not locked? Had he passed out? She excused herself, told the kids to wait, and ran outside, not even bothering to pull her coat on. 

 

The first thing that Thomas saw when he came to was _her_. Alison. He smiled groggily. 

“Oh my god, Thomas, are you alright?”

“I am now,” he piped, “now that you’ve saved me.”

Maybe that’s what Thomas wanted all along. 

“Are you okay to get up? Have you hurt anything?”

“My heart, maybe, once.”

“Thomas, stop being so overdramatic and get inside. It’s freezing and you’ll want to be unwrapping your present.”

Thomas shot upright. 

“Ooh, presents!” 

They both went inside and Alison made sure that her patio door was locked. No more slipping outside and falling from trees for budding Romantic poets. 

Humphrey had had a difficult last day of term. Though they were doing special Christmas activities throughout the day, he had found it difficult to complete the reindeer dot-to-dot. Miss hadn’t gotten angry at him, but he felt pressure mounting on him once it became plain he was the last boy in the classroom still trying to finish. It wasn’t necessarily the numbers that were difficult for him, but rather getting his pencil across each time. Mummy had said that she needed to book an appointment at the GP. The waiting list was long. 

“Dyspraxia” was the word she’d used to describe it to Daddy in a hushed voice when he’d come over for the weekend. He was not sure whether it scared him. 

Mummy had to buy him a new coat because he couldn’t get the buttons and zip right on his old one. He was getting too old for her to do it for him every day, she said. 

Mummy said a lot. 

Alison let him lie on the sofa if he got overtired. He had lots of short bursts of energy, rowdily kicking his football across the garden during warmer weather, but a wave of tiredness would wash over him quicker than he could say “goalkeeper”. 

She would tell him not to lose his head and rest to make sure Humphrey felt as well as possible. 

He’d been given Fanny for Secret Santa, and as a boy, he naturally had no idea what to buy her. He’d asked Daddy when they went to the supermarket. He had been advised not to spend more than five pounds on presents, so in the toy aisle in Tesco, he threw in a sparkly hairbrush with some scrunchies and hoped that it would be okay. Humphrey proved absolutely hopeless at wrapping it (his fingers kept getting caught by the sticky tape) so Daddy, who was also fairly hopeless, put it in a little gift bag. When he had to go back to Mummy’s house, he’d carried it so he would remember to bring it to Alison’s on the last day of term.

Standing on his tiptoes, he could see it now on the table. He spotted a shape with his name on it too- and it was quite big. Excitedly, he grinned in anticipation. 

Julian was most certainly not grinning in anticipation. Secret Santa was so lame. He furiously texted his mates on his group chat, wanting to be home so that he could sit on his XBOX, ignore Margot the au pair and eat crisps from the pantry. 

Thomas ran in and almost bumped into Julian. He tutted and went back to typing. 

Alison stood at the head of the table. She’d put on an old Father Christmas hat that Mike had found in the loft. The loft scared her too much; a cavernous liminal space that boiled in the summer and practically had icicles in the winter. There were areas she couldn’t step in lest she wished to fall through the ceiling, and a strange dusty smell that seemed to linger on everything. She could smell it on the hat now. 

The only people in school uniform were Cap and Pat because the West Horsely children were raising money for their PTA by going to school in their Christmas jumpers, and Julian had changed into his usual hoodie and jeans, which were undoubtedly extremely expensive but looked unassuming. The two uniformed kids stood together in silent solidarity, although Pat was wearing some jingly reindeer antlers on his head. The boy had also bought in Christmas tree-shaped biscuits for everyone that he and his mum had made and decorated themselves, which, when she saw them laid out in their old biscuit tin, had made Alison well up with tears. Pat was just so lovely. Even Julian had taken one and wolfed it down. 

Alison passed out each child’s respective present around the circle, the younger ones’ hands grabbing out excitedly. 

“Now, don’t give away which present you gave to someone, because it’s supposed to be anonymous. If we open them in age order, starting with Robin.”

Robin, swaying on his feet a little, tore open the Thomas The Tank Engine wrapping paper to reveal a sea monkey kit. 

Cap was the giver. Despite their worm altercation a few months ago, he did not mind Robin; he was only a toddler. The sea monkey kit might provide him with some entertainment. He was quite proud of himself for thinking that one up, if he was honest with himself. Halfway through giving himself an imaginary pat on the back, he watched in fear as Robin yelled ‘FOOD!’ and tried to tear up the package. 

Alison intervened, snatching the packet from him. 

“No, Robin. We’ll give this to your mummy and she will show you how it works. Humphrey, next.”

This was Pat’s doing. He adjusted his reindeer antlers nervously. He couldn’t decide one one nice thing for Humphrey, so when he watched the kid excitedly play with his newfound miniature football and wear his new scarf and hat, as well as slip his chocolate reindeer into his pocket, he felt a sense of fulfilment like no other. Pat loved making kids feel happy. Perhaps he would be a teacher like his mum, or a Scout Leader, but a better one than dad was. 

Alison indicated for Mary to unwrap her gift next. From the corner of Cap’s eye, he saw Julian give a smirk. Last week, he’d spotted him in the playground with some cronies throwing skittles at a quiet boy Cap recognised as being in the top year. The boy, who twitched and wore very thick glasses, often spent his time in the playground alone; Cap was too invested in his own tight-knit group of military-minded friends to care altogether too much. Plus, the boy was older than him. Whilst he had been throwing various confectionary at Speccy, Julian had worn that same smug look on his face. But was Cap just imagining things? Fawcett had a very smug face regardless. 

Mary smiled sweetly before grabbing her gift, which appeared to be light as a feather. Feathers there were, indeed, for she was unwrapping a plush toy pheasant. Horror dawned on Mary’s little face and and she clutched it unsurely. 

“I don’t be liking pheasants much,” she began, tears appearing to well up. “But I thanks you.” 

Cap shot Julian a dirty look. They caught eyes and Julian’s face dropped. 

Cap had heard Fanny’s dramatically whispered conversations with Mary about the reason the dark-haired six-year-old had decided she was becoming a vegetarian. Fanny was the sort to entice one into a friendship, especially those who were unsure of themselves and had a secret or two, and then broadcast it to anyone who could hear. She only kept her own secrets well. Cap could imagine her starting lots of fights on social media, a platform he and his peers were only just beginning to venture on to, in the future. He just hoped she would never be in charge of state secrets.

The story went that Mary, who lived in a small house on the edge of town, not far from Button House, made a friend. Across from her back garden was a field, and a pheasant, a round, brainless fowl, had been trained by her to peck at the door every evening for dinner. Mary’s Mother was allergic to most animals, so Mary kept her ‘pet’ a secret, saving scraps of sandwiches from her lunchbox to sneakily feed it when her parents were not looking. 

Her father, whom Cap had never met and thus could not judge the type of person he was, arrived in the evening one night with freshly caught dinner. Whether he had dabbled in a spot of poaching himself or he had got it from a geezer down at the pub, the bird ended up being surrounded by vegetables and stuffing for a Sunday roast. Cap imagined Mary enjoying the strong taste, but not quite recognising it was not chicken. 

When the usual time for the pheasant’s arrival came that night, Mary was disappointed to see that he was not there. The same result was observed the next night. And he next, and for another week. Mary, ever the innocent six-year-old, had assumed he had flown off on his holidays. 

Finally, after several weeks of not seeing her favourite pal, she decided to ask her mother whether she had seen a pheasant wandering about the back garden. Through teary eyes, Cap had overheard Mary tell Fanny that her mother then chuckled and said ‘the last pheasant I saw was being stuffed into our bellies for dinner a few weeks ago!’ 

It had then dawned on Mary what exactly she had eaten, and she had point blank refused to eat meat ever since. 

Did Julian know the story? He didn’t exactly invest himself in Button House Current Affairs, and he only stayed once a week, so probably not. But then how did he know to get a toy pheasant, exactly? Cap tutted and rolled his eyes. 

Kitty couldn’t wait to open her gift. Her heart was beating in joy, a beam plastered across her sunny face. She smoothed down her Christmas jumper, which displayed a knitted image of a unicorn with some holly sprigs. Granny had made it for her. 

She took the little package and carefully unwrapped a My Little Pony. 

“A Rainbow Dash! I love it!” She giggled, blowing a kiss in the general direction of her audience. “I have four of her now!”

Drat, thought Alison. She’d neglected to recognise with plastic horses Kitty already owned. Not that the little girl seemed to mind; she was already breaking it free from its little packaging cage and proceeding to run around the dining room, pretending to fly. 

She paused halfway through another plastic Pegasus circuit and grabbed the present Alison knew Kitty had placed there a few days before and thrust it towards Thomas.

“You’re the next oldest, Thomas!” 

“Kitty-“ Alison began, before realising her present could not have been less anonymous if she had tried.

Freshly unwrapped, another Rainbow Dash Pony was cupped in Thomas’ disappointed little hands. 

The boy smiled wryly. Alison knew he wouldn’t throw a hissy fit like Robin might’ve done if displeased, but she imagined that the little dramatist within him was already constructing a poem based on his Christmas anguish caused by a glittery equine.

Next up was Fanny, who seemed happy enough with her hair brush and scrunchies. Currently, she was a fan of making a large, tight bun atop her head with her silvery blonde hair, and often asked Alison for any hair tips. Alison herself had never bothered too much with her own locks, preferring to just get it all out of the way rather than spending hours fussing over something that would likely have Robin pulling at, sneezing on or getting blue tack stuck in at some point. 

Cap tried to not hotly anticipate his gift. His friends at school had already handed out theirs, which mostly involved chocolate, and one very nice toy tank that he was to keep on his windowsill. He knew, however, that the child who had anonymously put the present with his name on it on the table was probably younger and less smart than he, thus meaning it was probably going to be hurriedly bought by their parent as a matter of courtesy and wouldn’t mean anything. Chocolate, probably, or a scarf. The gift in his hands was light, and felt fabric-y under the paper. 

Neatly, he undid the sellotape holding it together and found himself presented with a baseball cap. It was red, trimmed with white faux fur and adorned with a bobble on top. 

A small note in neat writing told him ‘stop wearing your stupid school hat all the time and celebrate Christmas in style, cap boy.’ 

Meekly, he smiled at the gathering of people and took off his school cap, replacing it with with the Christmassy one, which immediately felt cheap upon his head.

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he announced, deadpan. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Julian titter and slyly share an underarm high five with Fanny. They then settled back into their usual positions, Julian lounging against the wall. At least there were only two more presents to go.

When Thomas had told Mummy of his Secret Santa partner, she had immediately interrogated him as to what Pat enjoyed. A meticulous woman who just loved curating gifts, she’d chosen a number of little gifts and put them in a brown paper gift bag. Thomas let a smile slip when he saw Pat unwrap his little portable compass, a first aid set and a choose-your-own-adventure book. A lot of people took Pat for granted. He was now hugging his presents to his chest, a big toothy grin plastered on his round face. Thomas noticed that the brackets of his braces had been changed to green and red. Festive. 

The joy of giving couldn’t mark out his disappointment of receiving a girl’s toy from Kitty, but he supposed that the girl had only given him something that made her happy, hoping in turn that it would make him equally so. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. 

Julian didn’t feel excited for his turn. He was going to get some impersonal present that he would just cast aside in favour of what his family and real friends would actually get him. Impersonal it was. He opened his wrapping paper to a little hamper of chocolate in a wicker basket. 

Smiling flatly and giving his thanks to the sender, he just felt glad that he could now retreat back to his phone and ignore the Christmas movie Alison was bound to put on. He unwrapped a mars bar from the hamper. 

Most of them then retreated onto the spacious sofas in the living room, which were wide and deep enough for dozens of kids to perch on. Cap saw Julian balancing on one of the arms, phone in hand, so he decided to quickly have a chat. 

“The pheasant was you, yes?” 

Julian didn’t even glance up. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can never answer a bloody question, can you?”

“I should go into Politics.”

The younger boy didn’t bother answering. Arguing with Julian was fruitless. 

Kitty had found Thomas’ present abandoned in the living room and was now zooming up and down the stairs with a blue pony in each hand. She almost crashed into Mary, who was making her way up the staircase with her eyes on the ground. 

“What’s wrong Mary? Do you want to play with me?”

“No, I’m sorry. I am a bit sad because of that pheasant. I do not like them be-“

“-Fanny told me that story. It’s okay. I’m sorry someone thought that was funny.”

Kitty embraced Mary into a tight hug. 

“I bet it was that horrible Julian. He’s not very nice, is he?”

“I think it was,” sighed Mary. “I saws him smiling funny.”

“I’ve got an amazing plan of REVENGE!” continued Kitty, eyes sparkling. “Follow me.”

Alison heard Julian’s scream before he came running into the living room clutching his arse. 

“MARY FUCKING SHOT ME!”

“Language!” Alison hissed on autopilot before realising, _fuck_. 

***

“Mike, I TOLD you buying a BB gun was not a good idea.” Alison whispered into the phone, looking guiltily at the posh boy, who was lying face down into a hospital bed, more in a huff than upset. The other kids were clustered around, some clutching presents, looking shocked. Robin loved the ambulance.

“I mean, was it Julian? Then he lowkey deserves it.” came her husband’s reply. 

“You’re not... Wrong.”


End file.
